


...Whatever they were doing...

by Rae_Saxon



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Nakedness, Poor Master just wanted some sex, Reunions, or so i hope, slight AU, sweet and funny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rae_Saxon/pseuds/Rae_Saxon
Summary: The Doctor returns to Gallifrey for the first time since the end of the Time War and meets the Master - who she has long believed to be dead - in bed with her brother. || It's basically an AU in which Ten never met the Master and Twelve never went to Gallifrey, for no other reason than me being a sucker for a dramatic reunion after thousands of years. That's all. That's all the importance that AU has. It's a playground for a Thoschei reunion in Thirteen/Dhawan style. 0 regrets.
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

Well, here she was.

It was what she had wanted, after all, wasn't it?

A little lost, the Doctor stood in the wide halls of the Gallifreyan citadel, looking around. Weird, she thought, how a little war, a little bloodshed, a little genocide could change so much, yet so little.

Everything looked exactly the same, like it had all been preserved in a little bubble away from time, while her life had gone on, moved further and further away from this place, changed her into a person who would feel an odd mix of familiarity and estrangement when returning here.

Ah.

That was exactly what had happened, wasn't it?

Someone was passing by, looking incredibly busy, from the way that horrid red robe swished around his legs and the clipboard in his hands. He looked around, rushed from arriving TARDIS to TARDIS, talking to people in frantic tone.

She bit her lower lip. If the Doctor was being honest, she had... well... expected a bit more commission? At least a greeting. Some familiar faces. Some judgemental eye-rolls. Someone acknowledging her. Some definite blaming for... well... that little bit of genocide she had committed, before she remembered that she, technically, hadn't done that at all.

It was all rather complicated.

“Hello, excuse me?” she asked, as the Time Lord passed her a third time without taking notice. He ignored her, running further ahead while she was still speaking. “I'm.... the Doctor?” she added, voice fading away with his attention.

“Okay,” she called after him a bit louder. “I'll just... check myself in.”

She waited another few seconds, just for good measure, but found herself still completely ignored, so she wagged her arms a little and started walking into the middle of the hall aimlessly.

The man walked past her a fourth time, hastily pressing a key into her hands, before turning towards another arriving TARDIS.

The Doctor let it dangle down in front of her face, sighing, a little sulk playing around her lips.

Every Time Lord had been called home, for re-grouping after the losses of the Time War. Rebuilding of society. It was so painfully sensible, she had almost been inclined to believe in their society again.

Not enough to follow the call, of course, but that was self-explanatory. Not that they had left her much choice in the matter.

She walked back to her TARDIS, giving her a little stroke, a sad smile on her lips.

“I'll see you later, old girl,” she promised. “Don't let them lie a finger on you while I'm gone. Be fierce.”

Her lips twitched. They might have the power to block her coordinates from everything but Gallifrey and force her to come here, but they knew the wrath they'd bring over themselves if they ever harmed her ship.

With another deep breath, the Doctor clutched the key into her fist and started walking out of the hall. She'd gotten a room. So people definitely _were_ expecting her.

Was that good? Bad? She couldn't tell. It rather depended on who led the whole thing, these days. Still Rassilon? Bad, definitely bad.

But she had the distinct feeling that Rassilon would've greeted her with an army of armed guards, not ignorance, and so the Doctor felt a little lighter as she made her way to the guest quarters on the north wing of the building.

The feeling of strange familiarity wouldn't pass. With every step deeper into the heart of Gallifrey, she felt more like an intruder in a world she knew perfectly. She remembered the first time her father had taken her to work here, as a little child, introducing her to people left and right, the big hope of the Lungbarrow clan. She remembered visiting Braxiatel here several times, when Lungbarrow had already slowly given up on their big hope. Not that any of these visits had ever sparked a single bit of enjoyment for either her brother or her.

Ah, Braxiatel.

She grinned.

Even his stupid old face would be welcome now. It had been so long since she'd seen another living Time Lord. So long since she thought of Gallifrey as anything else than gone forever, along with all its casualties, all her _victims_ , as she had thought.

Now that she had found it again, more involuntarily than anything else, but still, she allowed herself to dream, for the first time. Dream of all the people she hadn't stopped to grieve for, feeling she had lost the right when she slaughtered them along with the Daleks.

Romana and Brax and her family, her mother, God, her poor old mother, Susan, maybe even Narvin, if he was having one of his good days, and Leela.... She still couldn't believe all the horrors she had dragged Leela into.

Would the Deca be here? Hell, after all these years of battling the Meddling Monk and the Rani, she hadn't believed to ever be happy to see them, but her hearts sped up at the prospect now. They were old friends, in a way, they were familiar, believed gone for so long and... and...

An expression of pain rushed over her face, a sting right into her hearts making her gasp.

... Her only living connection to _him_.

“It's all back,” she whispered. “All of it, raised from the dead like it was never gone. But you. You had to be an idiot. You had to die before it all, didn't you?”

She was standing in front of her room, staring at the number and the little name tag next to it with a dark expression, her fingers trembling as she tried to put in the key.

It fell to the ground with a shatter.

Flinching, the Doctor quickly picked it back up.

Okay, change of plan. She had no nerves to sit alone in her new room, thinking about the Master. Distraction was needed. Desperately. A nice one, preferably.

So instead of opening her room, she started walking through the aisles, one after another, taking every corner she could get, reading the name tags, searching for some familiar people to exchange stories with. And if it was banter, if it was a super villain or fellow renegade (which, in all honesty, usually resulted in the same thing) to throw insults back and forth, even that would be nice, would probably do her some good, in all honesty.

 _God_ , the realisation hit her out of nothing. There were people here, who _knew_ her. Hadn't just met her once, seen her heroic side and decided to tag along, hadn't just heard of her in stories and legends and decided she was superwoman, no. People who properly, honestly, genuinely knew her.

Tears shot into the Doctor's eyes, as, for the first time, the very numb feeling of truly having returned _home_ settled in.

She might not like it very much, she might have called it anything but that her whole life, but there were people here who knew her, who had grown up with her, taught her, despised her and... and...

_Did that sign just say “Master”?_

She stopped in her tracks, staring at it with her mouth half open, trying to find out if her eyes had played a trick on her, if her imagination was running wild in desperate hope to find him, if it was a cruel joke being played on her, maybe. But were there even people left to even realise she still cared about her childhood friend and now demised best enemy?

Probably not.

The Doctor took a deep breath, trying to collect herself.

Only one way to find out, really.

With a still shaking hand, she knocked on the door, one, two, three, four times. And waited.

And waited.

And... waited.

With a huff, she stepped closer to the door quietly, resting her ear against the wood, listening intently. She could definitely hear... something on the other side. Heavy breathing. Something that sounded like muffled voices.

Was he really in there? Was he ignoring her?

Oh, he would, he would absolutely ignore whoever was knocking on his door, he could be petty like that. Had been petty like that? Would be petty like that. If he were there. Which she wasn't convinced of yet. Because conviction could hurt. Hope could hurt. She was not sure how much more hurt she could take.

The Doctor's hearts raced as she got ready to push the door open. She wasn't sure if she could survive the devastation of opening that door and seeing someone else entirely on the other side, hearing them explain that the sign was a mistake, an old leftover, anything that made more sense than “yes, yes, I am the Master, raised from the dead.”

Though, in all fairness, it would not be the first time.

And with that weirdly reassuring thought, the Doctor collected all her remaining strength and opened the door.

“Uhm,” she made.

“Uhm,” the two man gave back at her, still deeply intertwined, one on top of the other, naked, but under a blanket, thankfully, both heads painfully twisted towards the door.

An uncomfortable silence settled and stretched.

“I told them,” the man on top finally growled through gritted teeth, dark eyes sparkling with rage. “I don't wish to be disturbed today.”

The man beneath him coughed uncomfortably.

“If you could... climb off me, please? So I could get clothed?”

His partner turned back towards him, snarling slightly.

“We're not done.”

“Oh, I very much am,” the other man snapped back. “That really did the trick.”

With a roll of his eyes, the topping man rolled off him, watching with a grumpy expression how the other tried to collect his clothes lying around the bed without exposing himself.

The Doctor watched, feeling numb shock rolling over her in waves.

When he had finally clumsily dressed himself underneath the blanket, a shirt half buttoned and boxer shorts covering his lower half, he walked towards the Doctor with the attempt of a sneer. The effect, however, got lost entirely, somewhere along the hair that had clearly been gripped and tugged at and the sock hanging out of his left sleeve.

“How can I help you?”

“Uhm, I was....” the Doctor stammered, her eyes suddenly very transfixed on the sock. “I was... looking for the Master?”

She looked up in hopeful desperation, trying to read his eyes, her hearts beating up to her neck now. God, she wasn't ready to hear it, she couldn't bear it, wouldn't be able to...-

The man still in the bed growled, louder now and the one in front of her raised a single, perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“This might not be the best time. I'd run if I were you.”

“As fast as you can,” the other man grumpily barked from the bed.

A wide, goofy, endlessly relieved smile spread on the Doctor's face. It was completely out of control at this point, but the realisation spreading inside of her, it was just too good, too incredible. He was _here_ , he was _alive_ , this was him, this... this completely... naked... man... on his....

“Braxiatel, get her out of here before I tear her head off,” called the Master, rage still apparent on his face and, _oh God, the Master!_

The Master and.................

Wait.

Wait a second.

“Braxiatel?” she asked, breathlessly. “You're... you... you two?”

She lifted both hands, one pointing at the Master, the other at the man who was, apparently, her brother. Accusation sneaked into her voice.

“You are.... but... I thought you couldn't... stand each other.”

“We can't,” both Time Lords replied at the exact same moment, exchanging a glare as soon as they had. It was hard to tell which one was nastier.

“But you were...” the Doctor stammered on, completely unaware that she wasn't making any sense at all. “I saw you, you were...”

“Is there anything you want or are you just here to ruin what could've been a perfectly fine fuck?” the Master called out, making Braxiatel flinch.

“Vulgar,” he commented dryly, making the Master roll his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Braxiatel shot back, turning to the Doctor again. “He's got a point, though. What _do_ you want?”

Something settled between her hearts, hard and painful and heavy and the feeling of it made her blood boil and her skin crawl.

What she wanted? Well, she had wanted to talk to her oldest friend and partner and soulmate, to the one person she had thought irreversibly gone forever and found him doing... doing... things with her _brother_ instead.

Her joy of seeing them again was gone as quickly as it had come, evaporating and leaving nothing but hollow anger and pain in its wake.

“You know what. Never mind. Don't bother. I'm clearly wrong here. You two. Go on doing...” She waved her hands around aimlessly. “... That. Whatever.... that was.” She knew exactly what it had been. “I'll be... off. In my room. Far... far away.”

She turned around on the spot, attempting to leave, already a few steps out of the door, when a strong hand grasped her wrist and held her back.

The Doctor tried to escape his grip, turning back around to spit a “let go of me!” into Braxiatel's face, only to find herself meeting an entirely naked Master's intense gaze.

It simply wasn't fair how stunning he looked. He always did, of course, at least in her eyes, but this body was a whole other level. Completely unfamiliar, but there was something that was just so him. His skin was brown, his chest more muscular than she had ever seen him, his lips were swollen from.... whatever he had been doing with her brother earlier, and scarily kissable, his dark beard simply typical, his hair was now tousled up from.... whatever he had been doing and looked too soft to be true.

But his brown eyes were shining down at her with so much warmth and emotion that she felt, for a split second, that this couldn't be him, only knew his usually so cool, calculating gaze far too well, when the familiarity of the love inside them rolled over her like a steam roller.

It had been so, so long she had last seen him look at her like that. She had thought it forever lost, any chance of seeing it again gone, along with him.

He looked.... softer than she knew him. Gentler around the edges.

His fingers around her wrist felt warm and she was suddenly very, very aware of... well... his nakedness. God, he was gorgeous. Bloody hell.

“Theta.”

Smooth, beautiful voice. Of course. When had he never _not_?

Her hearts beat faster at the sound of her old name from his lips and she knew he could feel it, feel her pulse quicken beneath his fingers.

“Hello, Koschei.”

They stared into each other's eyes, both absolutely speechless for a minute. What the hell did you say after thousands of years without another, after having thought to never see the other again? What did you _do_?

In comparison to Gallifrey, the halls and aisles she had walked through, he didn't feel strange to her, didn't feel new or wrong, just like home, like no time had passed at all, while her hearts were still aching from all the time that actually had.

It was Braxiatel that tore them both out of their trance. He had started to cough and was seemingly unable to catch his breath.

His red face still hidden behind his hands when he was done, he mumbled a quick apology.

The Doctor regarded him coldly.

Her brother must've noticed, because his eyes were flinching back and forth over the tips of his fingers, until he finally gave up and let them sink with a sigh.

“I can explain,” he muttered, but the Doctor shook her head.

“And I cannot believe you expect me to stay here and listen to you.”

She tore her wrist out of the Master's grip, suddenly remembering her (slightly weakened) anger again. With another deadly glare towards her brother, she turned back around and ran off, back to her room, her lips pressed together in silent determination not to cry, very aware that the Master wouldn't be able to come after her without his clothes.

He was back, he was alive, he was okay, and they had met and it had been completely ruined, ruined by... by... whatever they had been doing. Together. Naked. In the Master's bed.

She screamed, a fist hitting her door. It sprang open, without her even having to use her key. She slammed it shut behind her, letting herself fall on the bed.

Her brother had... had... her... well... Ah, dammit.

Someone knocked on her door, then, without waiting for an answer, pushed it open. She didn't have to turn around and look who it was.

“How'd you find me so fast?” she asked, determinedly staring at a wall, back turned to the Master.

“My dear Doctor,” he grinned, as he let himself fall down next to her. “You left a trace of unmissable rage behind you. I simply followed.”

She let her shoulders sink, a little mix of a huff and a laugh escaping her. She had missed the idiotic “my dear Doctor” endearment more than she knew, more than she realised before she had finally heard it from his lips again.

Damn him.

When she turned around, he was already grinning at her, his (now dressed) arms opened wide and without hesitating another second, the Doctor let herself slump against his chest, head on his shoulders and breathed in his scent, so familiar, so bloody familiar, as he closed his arms around her.

They sat that way, for a while, quietly enjoying each other's proximity, quietly enjoying that they were truly here, sharing this moment, after... how long had it even been for him? How was he alive? For how long?

“I thought you were dead...” the Doctor muttered, breaking the peace, but the Master didn't seem to mind, he hummed quietly.

“Oh Doctor, how many times you have been mistaken in that aspect. You're still surprised? Really?”

She shrugged. “A little. It has... been a while.”

“It certainly has.”

The Master sighed, planting a little kiss on her forehead and the Doctor closed her eyes, tears building again.

He hadn't been this gentle to her in a long, long time.

“They resurrected me for their bloody war. Wanted to use me, send me out, battle the Daleks.”

The Doctor twisted her head, staring up at him in shock.

“They never told me. I could've used your help. I could've...”

“Had faith?” the Master offered helpfully and she let her gaze sink again.

“Maybe. We make a good team. If we really want to.”

The Master laughed lightly.

“We make the best team. But Rassilon didn't want you to have something to loose,” he added bitterly.

“So you were here...” the Doctor mused, looking troubled. “When I...”

“Time-bubbled the entire planet and trapped me here with our intensely exhausting people? Yes.”

She shot him a rather apologetic side-glance. “I didn't know.”

“I know. It's fine. I found a way to pass my time.”

The Doctor snorted.

“So I saw.”

Shaking his head softly, the Master lifted a hand from her arm, let his fingers twist around a strand of her hair, playfully tugging and letting it run through his hands.

“So, on a scale from strangling you with a phone cord and stealing your friend's father's body, how mad at me are you right now?”

The Doctor blinked.

“At you? Not so much. I'd scale it at making one of my hearts stop and then panicky restarting it.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking surprised and the Doctor smiled at him, the gesture coming so naturally, so... surprisingly genuine, it was a nice change, not to have to force it for the sake of others, for once.

“Well, I lost my right to, don't I? We haven't been... together like that in a long time, even before all... that.” She gestured around the room, indicating Gallifrey, indicating so much more.

“You... you're not mad then?” the Master asked, stunned and the Doctor bit her lower lip, staring ahead with a darkened expression.

“I said not at _you_.”

“Oh,” the Master replied through his teeth and then his face lit up. “Oh!”

Confident that he had gotten it now, the Doctor suddenly raised up from her bed, hands raised in anger, as she waved them through the air uncontrolled.

“I mean what does he think he's doing? He's my brother, my own brother, going around and having a... having a fuck with my... my.... my...”

She stumbled over her words there and the Master gave her no help, looking at her with both eyebrows raised in expectation.

She let her arms sink.

“Whatever,” she spit out and he laughed at that, shaking his head slightly.

“What an apt description.”

“He doesn't need a name for it!” she called out, angrily. “He knows exactly what you...”

Again, he waited, his eyebrows now almost disappearing in his hair and the Doctor huffed one more time, before letting herself fall back down on the bed beside him.

“.... mean to me. He knows what you mean to me.”

The smile on his lips was so soft, so loving, it seemed to have lost all his mocking edge, as he pulled her back to his chest.

“He's the closest thing I had to you, trapped on here.”

“I know,” she muttered.

“I really am not remotely interested in him. He's a stuck up fool.”

“I know,” the Doctor repeated.

“Don't even like his hair cut. It's stupid. Who wears his hair like that?”

“You, several times, actually,” she sighed. “Why are you defending yourself? I already said you're not the wrong I'm mad at.”

The Master gave her a grin that was all teeth, so wide it almost fell out of his face at the sides.

“Because, I really enjoy not to be the person you're angry with for once. Just wanted to, you know, clarify how innocent I am in all of this.”

She laughed, she couldn't help it.

“Want to watch when I shout at him?”  
  
“Absolutely!” the Master replied enthusiastically, biting his lower lip in a way that made him look like an excited child before Christmas – It was utterly adorable. “Did I tell you he also wore my shirts sometimes? Does that make you angrier?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“This happened more than once?”

The Master's grin fell off his face and left his mouth hanging half open, while he tried to find a way to talk his way out of this.

“He's got a lot of self-hate,” he finally explained lamely. “And I.... really missed you a lot?”

The Doctor's expression lifted a little to a smirk.

“I missed you too,” she promised, and the Master, happy to have successfully distracted her, leant down with gleaming eyes. For a second, she allowed herself to lean in, their lips so close she could almost taste his breath on hers, then she shrieked backwards, eyes wide open.

“What?” the Master asked, looking back at her with equal shock, his shoulders sunken and she realised this was the second time today he had gotten cock-blocked.

The Doctor giggled.

“Please. Brush your teeth first. Twice. Maybe three times. And a shower. Two showers. An endless stream of showers.”

“What?” the Master replied and raised an arm to sniff the pit of his arms, looking offended.

The Doctor's giggle intensified.

“You stink of my brother.”

All in all, it wasn't too bad of a reunion. Showering together had been a wonderful alternative, falling asleep in his arms much better than lying alone in her empty TARDIS, wandering about the stars aimlessly, and maybe, just maybe, if she still had the sweet gift of Gallifrey's utter ignorance tomorrow, she could sneak down with him, steal back her TARDIS and run away.

They were only a few centuries late. Nothing they couldn't catch up on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They dance, everything is peaceful, for everyone, but the Master's admirers and.... Braxiatel.

The Doctor huffed.

Apparently, Gallifrey's return back to the skies of the universe, as the unwanted guardians of the cosmos was a cause to celebrate.

Or so she had been told.

But truth was, she was only half annoyed, when she entered the crowded hall in her suit, grabbing a glass of champagne (they would hate that she called their finest, Gallifreyan wine that, and that was exactly why she did it) and looked around.

Maybe she felt a little like celebrating. Her home was back, her genocide not being an actual genocide still made her feel somewhat like a relief and.... well. Plus, she always loved an opportunity to be the only one in an ocean of scarlet robes, wearing a subtle, black suit. Always gave her a little thrill, defying Gallifreyan laws that effortlessly, especially considering she was stuck here, for the time being.

Her eyes fixed on the Master, who was already in the room, the only one not wearing one of those ridiculous robes aside from herself – and she was grateful for that – and currently surrounded by a little group of people, chatting away pleasantly.

Typically, she thought with a grin. He was always painfully on time.

“You're late,” Braxiatel greeted her and she turned around with a death glare.

“Do you want to complain?”

Brax breathed out heavily. “Are you planning on holding this over me for the rest of my lives?”

“You? Sleeping with my ex? Yes, I believe I am.”

“It's been over a thousand years!” Braxiatel exclaimed passionately. “And he's tried to kill you several times since, I simply didn't think...”

“You? Sleeping with my best enemy? The person who tried to kill your brother several times since?”

“Sister,” it slipped out of Braxiatel, who immediately looked like he regretted it. The Doctor's eyes narrowed further. “I can't win with you right now, can I?”

“Oh, is that my fault now?” she asked, her voice slightly raised, loud enough for him to look left and right, no doubt worried about his precious reputation.

“Doctor, please...”

“What is it? Want nobody to know who you're having affairs with, do you?” she asked, her voice steadily growing louder.

“No, actually,” Braxiatel thundered back and she flinched, clear thoughts slowly settling in.

“No,” she replied with a sigh. “Me neither. So.... leave me alone, will you?”

Braxiatel looked crestfallen for a second, but nodded. He had already turned halfway around, when he stopped himself, his head twisting back to her.

“For what it's worth, I am sorry. Neither of us were aware of your return and we... well, I knew he was using me to... But I just...” He shook his head slowly. “Doesn't matter. Despite our differences... I'm glad to see you, _brother_.” He gave her a little, sad wink, before walking off and the Doctor would've liked to throw her glass after him.

Stupid, snooty idiot.  
  
She grinned widely.

“Yeah, me too, sis, me too,” she muttered to herself, before turning around to face the crowd around her.

More and more curious eyes had found her, were following her every move, no doubt having heard all sorts of stories about the famous Doctor and her willingness to blow all of them up.

All of them true, too.

But it was alright, because her eyes were on the Master right now, no one else, just the Master, standing in the middle of........ a quite flirty, admiring crowd, enjoying himself immensely.

Nope, that was enough. She had shared him quite enough and he had had a thousand years to flirt with someone else, she was not having that here and now.

They were supposed to be _together_ , for Rassilon's sake!

With determined steps, she stumped towards the crowd, not in the slightest bothered by the heads turning to watch her or the sudden silence in the hall or the people around the Master giving her dismissive side glances, while shifting closer to him, giggling and flirty.

“Enjoying yourself, _honey_?” she asked in her sweetest, most mocking tone and the Master had the audacity to give her a smug little grin as he turned around to her, as if he had just noticed her now.

“Oh, Doctor. Indeed, I am, I was just talking to Jonah about...”

“That sounds terribly interesting,” she interrupted him, her tone growing cold, “but I'm afraid I'm going to have to borrow him. Maybe Elisabeth over there is interested about all your stories about your dead cat, why don't you tell her.” She turned to the person currently clinging to the Master's arm with both his hands, assuming it was Jonah.

Jonah stared back at her in confusion.

“I never had a cat,” he finally stated after a while of silence, which the Master spent entirely by trying his hardest not to laugh out loud. “And...”

“Enlightening, I'm sure. What a conversationalist,” the Doctor spit back.

Jonah opened his mouth, indignation now clear on his face, but the Master, freeing his own arm, laid a hand on his shoulder conspirational.

“Don't worry about it. She just gets a little snappy when not all the attention in the room is on her.”

The Doctor huffed.

“You're one to talk, Master. Now, are we gonna dance, or not?”

He gave her another smug grin, basically glowing with self-importance now.

“I thought you'd never ask, love.”

She quickly took his hand, before another grabby Time Lord could grasp him and dragged him behind her onto the dance floor. There was very subtle violin music going, with barely anyone dancing. She guessed even swinging to the music while looking into each others eyes could be considered too much of a display of actual emotions for Time Lords to be pursued.

She didn't give a single toss.

Thankfully, the Master immediately took the lead, a hand on her lower back, as he pulled her a little bit closer and the Doctor sighed, feeling a bit of the rage evaporate, as she wrapped her arms loosely around his neck.

“You sure have grown popular,” she muttered, trying not to look at the angry stares still following them as they moved over the dance floor slowly.

“And you've sure grown jealous,” the Master smirked. “We gotta be separated for a few hundred years a lot more often.”

“Oh, shut up, I'm not jealous,” she lied with a hiss, only serving to deepen his grin.

“They've started seeing me as some kind of anti-authority hero after the war, because I was... pissing some people off. And apparently, society needed an anti-authority hero during Rassilon's terror regime and you weren't around to do it. I did nicely though. May or may not have set Rassilon's old tomb on fire.”

“Mhm,” the Doctor grunted. “They have a better regime now, clearly, so they could lay off a little.”

The Master's smirk still twitched around his lips.

“Yeah, but in case you didn't notice, I'm also irresistibly hot.”

“Oh my God,” she remarked with a big eye roll, but a little smile sneaked onto her face regardless.

“Yeah, you agree,” he laughs, shifting a little closer to her, his hot breath on her lips now. “You think I'm hot.”

“And so does Braxiatel, apparently,” she gave back, making him freeze, then frown.

“Way to kill the mood,” he muttered, before he started moving again, putting a little distance back between them.

“See, that's exactly what I thought, when I saw you, and my brother, on that bed, doing-”

“Has being a woman gifted you jealousy? Honestly, I hate to think in Earthly gender stereotypes, but...”

“Being apart from you for far too long and then seeing you in the arms of several different people is what gave me jealousy, Master.”

She was getting louder now and he rolled his eyes, his fingers splaying over her lower back, moving in soothing strokes.

“Never thought I'd see you this insecure, that's usually my business,” he finally sighed. “Would you please relax? When have I ever cared about anyone but you? I don't even remember what they looked like. Jonah wasn't even his real name. Lord knows what it was, I sure don't.”

She sulked a little when she looked up at him again.

“Are you lying to make me feel better?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, are you confusing me with someone else?”

At that, the Doctor couldn't help the little laugh escaping her.

“Okay, fine. Point taken. I just... wish they'd stop giving me these looks.”

The Master followed her gaze, suppressing a laugh when he saw the little group of people he had left behind, all staring at the Doctor bitterly, as she gently swayed in his arms.

“They think you're stealing away their shot at getting into bed with the great Master. Isn't that delightful?”

“It's annoying,” she commented dryly and he winked at her with more cockiness a man should ever possess.

“Want to mark your territory a little?”

She raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged ever so slightly.

“We can. I'm up for it. Gives me a beautiful chance to mark _my_ territory in one go.”

“Brushed your teeth?” she asked, making him roll his eyes.

“Naturally. I'm a hygienic person.”

The Doctor snorted.

“More like vain.”

“That too.”

They grinned at each other.

“Fine, but if I taste even a little bit of Braxiatel in there, I'll have to gag, I'm warning you now.”

“Should I be at all concerned over how you'd be able to even tell?”

The Doctor glared at him.

“I could tell if there was something not tasting like _you_.”

With a shake of his head, the Master shifted closer, their noses almost touching now, as he leant down slightly.

“You haven't even kissed me in this body yet.”

“You always taste like you,” she gave back, definitely unable to hold back a gentle little smile any longer.

He smiled back at her, just for a moment, all masks of smugness and mockery falling off his face, leaving nothing but the soft gleam of affection in his brown eyes and her hearts beat faster, all of a sudden, when he leaned down, kissing her lips so gently, she could've almost thought she'd imagined it.

“Hey, what was that,” she breathed, her eyes flinging open as he pulled back. “I thought you'd give them a bit more of a show.”

He laughed.

“I will. Just, you know... We've done a lot of fucking over the years, not so much... this.”

The Master had raised a hand away from her waist, waving it around as if to try and wave away the idea that he was actually craving affection.

She grinned.

“Yeah. It's nice. But it's also been centuries since the last time we did the fucking bit, sooooo....”

“I hear ya,” he laughed, kissing her on the tip of her nose, just once, before very suddenly and abruptly pulling her flush against him, kissing her hard.

The Doctor's world started spinning as she felt his lips against hers, the softness suddenly replaced by a force she didn't realise he had in him, as his hand wandered up to her hair, gripping it tightly and his tongue leapt inside her mouth, making her moan.

“Like that, love?” he muttered against her lips, his free hand running over the side of her chest and she practically sunk into his arms, feeling herself turning into pudding.

“God, I missed you.”

He grinned, letting her sink against his shoulders, forehead resting in the crook of his neck and he closed his eyes, with his chin on her head, just for a second, allowing himself to feel at peace.

People around them had started murmuring, grouping together, occasional glares still thrown into their direction and the Master huffed gently.

“Let's get out of here,” he suggested.

It wasn't new to them, the concept of being outcasts amongst their own people. Never quite cast out by them, not when they had been children, anyway, but so lost in their feelings for one another, they never could quite grasp the concept of paying attention to anyone else.

That's what it had been like for him, anyway, and a look on the Doctor's dazed face, as he grabbed a bottle of champagne and led her outside, how she didn't even seem to know where they were going and past whom, it gave him the tiniest spark of hope, that maybe, maybe, so it had been for her.

The air was still warm, but night had settled over Gallifrey, as they sat down underneath the starlight, opening up the bottle and drinking straight from it in turns, laughing and enjoying just sitting a bit closer to one another than was necessary, their shoulders touching, fingers brushing the other's occasionally, and he enjoyed every second of it.

It was as if they were children again, staring up at the night sky, dreaming of where they would go together, as if the last thousand years of hunting and battling and fighting had never happened. A hundred open possibilities to simply start from zero, if he was just ready to take it.It wouldn't be easy, of course, he thought with a side glance to the Doctor, who seemed entirely too enthralled by alcohol and starlight to even notice. Because these last thousand years _had_ happened and not always would there be a convenient passage of time and the soothing light of the stars to take that away.

But this may very well be the first time he'd at least like to _try_.

No guarantee she would, though. She was a runner. Always had been.

He played with her hair a little, enjoying the way the blonde strands reflected the star light, seemed to shine silvery around his fingers.

“You know,” he finally broke the silence with a thoughtful voice. “If you leave me again, I might have to let Braxiatel comfort me. I can be a very sad guy.”

She gave him a shocked glance.

“Leave you?”

He gulped.

“Well, since we're... I just thought... I mean, you could say we're.... currently... togeth...-” He coughed. “Together on this planet in a... stuck-like position.”

She laughed.

“Smooth.”

“Yes,” the Master grumbled. “I'm a smooth, sad guy.”

“Well, I'll try very hard to avoid it,” the Doctor replied with a little smirk. “I wouldn't know what to do if I had to file more disturbing images of Brax' naked, pimpled ass being penetrated.”

Braxiatel, who had just come out to get some fresh air and quiet away from the crowd, froze in the door, suppressed a cough as he felt himself blushing violently and quickly turned around on the spot, deciding to never even as much as look at anyone ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story absolutely didn't need a second part, but I kinda had another Gallifreyan Doctor/Master headcanon that needed dumping, which is Gallifreyans suddenly being really into the Master and the Doctor, never caring about him one bit, suddenly gets very offended and possessive, so here it is. I liked having a little AU in which they missed each other enough without all their New Who history, so that they could just..... enjoy each other's company? I miss that about them sometimes. Urgh. Anyway. Hope someone liked it. :) Probably not Brax tho.


End file.
